Newfound Advantage
by slack-jawed cheese hugger
Summary: x LucianxAaron x Aaron won't be able to continue without Lucian, and Lucian knows it. And when he takes advantage of this knowledge, Aaron breaks, and Lucian knows he has won... again.
1. breaking season

Aaron made a face at the bitter taste of the Potion he had taken a swig from and then yanked up his shirt to reveal a nasty gas

Aaron made a face at the bitter taste of the Potion he had taken a swig from and then yanked up his shirt to reveal a nasty gash. As soon as the medicine had slid down his throat the flesh began to heal and knit, leaving only flakes of dead skin and clotted blood on the surface to show there had been any wound at all. That was the magic of Potions: they sped up the healing process so fast it was as if there had been no wound at all.

Lucian watched with interest, head propped up on one hand. No matter how many times he saw that happen, he'd never get used to it.

Bold and curious as always, he reached out to stroke the unblemished skin where the laceration had been moments before, making Aaron's breath catch. Lucian ignored it and, licking his thumb, rubbed furiously at the dirt, a vague frown of concentration drifting onto his face. When he had gotten it clean, the frown dissipated and was replaced by his normal face, an interested but blank sort of look.

His companion prepared to ask a question. "Um, Lucian…"

He looked up.

"Why… why do you do that?"

Lucian cocked his head to the side silently, not understanding what Aaron meant.

"Y-you're always touching me… I don't get it…"

"Because I want to." Aaron looked up suddenly in surprise. "It's fun to watch you squirm. Plus, your skin feels nice." Aaron's already pronounced blush got worse, and Lucian smirked.

"But that's so mean," cried Aaron, halfway between laughing and crying.

"Is it?" Lucian sat up from his lazy sprawl. "Is it really?" The brunette looked confused, so he continued. "I know you dream about me. "

His smirk got bigger as a look of shock and terror flitted across Aaron's face. "Don't think I don't hear you at night, when you're asleep and dreaming. _Stoppit, Lucian,_"he moaned in imitation, closing his eyes, "_leggo. You're not supposed to do that! Lucian…_"

Lucian cracked open one eye to see Aaron's look of surprise and horror. "I…" Aaron's voice cracked. "I talk in my sleep?"

"I should think that's the least of your worries at the moment."

Nodding, Aaron squeezed his eyes shut, obviously trying not to cry.

Lucian sat back slightly and waited.

"I'm sorry," said Aaron, covering his face with his hands. "Oh god, I'm so sorry…"

Lucian grinned inwardly. He had won! Outwardly, he crept a little closer to the younger boy, speaking in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. "You poor thing," he cooed, "you must be so _scared_." Aaron curled into himself more at the sound of his voice. "You're not supposed to like it this much when he touches you…. It's not supposed to feel that good, the feeling of his fingers…" Lucian trailed the tips of said fingers across his exposed shoulder- "…on your skin, your bare skin…"

A sob wrenched its way free from Aaron's throat, making Lucian grin uncontrollably. He loved feeling powerful like this, like he was the line between happy and sad and there was nothing the other person could do to change it. He nearly started laughing with sadistic glee when Aaron started shaking from the effort of not crying. "He probably _hates _you now," he whispered in Aaron's ear. "He probably thinks you're _disgusting_."

That was it. Aaron could control himself no longer, and broke down crying, still trying to cover his face. Lucian shook his head and grabbed a fistful of Aaron's brown hair, pulling his face up, away from his hands, forcing Aaron to look at him. Aaron tried to look away and Lucian yanked his hair around so he couldn't. "Bad Aaron," Lucian muttered, looking him straight in the eyes.

A tear slipped down Aaron's cheek and Lucian leaned forward, catching it with the tip of his tongue. Aaron made a sound halfway between a sob and a moan, but didn't turn away. The elder of the two smiled, lips mere inches from Aaron's face, before ducking to the side to tell him something. "What would happen if I _did_ hate you, hmm?" he asked, speaking in first person again. "What would you do then?"

"I don't know," rasped Aaron helplessly. "I don't know anymore…"

"Good answer." Lucian leaned forward the last few inches to capture his lips, making Aaron squeak in surprise and confusion, and when he pulled away, Aaron's eyes were closed, two more tears trailing down his face. Lucian surveyed his prize.


	2. notorious

He had pushed Aaron to the point where the boy was completely malleable; like putty in his capable hands, and he planned to savor this power for as long as the poor thing could take it. Lucian smirked. It was turning out to be a good day after all.

He reached forwards to wipe the tears from Aaron's eyes, still glowing with pride, and watched calmly as the other hiccupped and drew a shaky breath such as one does when one is done crying.

Aaron's body was slim and strong, like a cat, and he moved like one too. But if he was a cat then Lucian was a panther, stalking through his domain, asserting his dominance. Such was the size difference of their self-confidence _pro temps_, and for the most part, their sanity as well, although Aaron couldn't exactly speak for Lucian's soundness of mind, especially after this display.

He _had _been being honest; he'd thought about it long and hard after the incident and he just couldn't imagine a life without Lucian in it, plain and simple. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to get this attached to someone who didn't care if he lived to see the next sunrise. Certainly neither Ernest nor Kay would agree with it, and that was why he hadn't asked them first when he began to construct a definitive answer about what it was he was feeling. And that was where it all began to go downhill; with no role model or experience to rely on he had no idea how he was expected to proceed.

And it was for that reason that the next time Lucian got within two feet of him he held it together for about two-and-a-half seconds before melting into a puddle of tears. It wasn't that he was sad; it was just that he could sense that the relationship was approaching some sort of pivotal moment and he had absolutely _no idea_ how to deal. He had given the thing a considerable amount of thought and yet had no solutions; it was like asking a frog to figure out tax forms:

Completely unreasonable.

For whatever reason, this was exactly what Lucian had wanted and expected from the situation. If Aaron didn't know the appropriate perquisite to this situation, fine; all the better for him. It would be far easier for him to manipulate the poor boy in the way he wanted if he didn't know what he was supposed to do.

As a direct result of this, Lucian took to wearing a feral grin whenever Aaron was around, which just confused him all the more. _Perfect, _Lucian would think to himself, _he's playing right into my hands._ Although he was unaware of the fact that Aaron was more confused than he thought he was, it didn't matter much because he was behaving exactly the way he had predicted.

All was well for a while (for Lucian anyway, Aaron was still baffled) and they proceeded happily (or at least as happily as was to be expected) for about a month and twenty-three days.

Upon the eve of the twenty-fourth day they ran into a slight problem. Or rather, Lucian did.

Lucian could not, for the life of him, find Aaron.

He ran about looking for him for nearly an hour before Nero caught up with him and breathlessly reminded him that the boy was out getting supplies, and bestowed a defeated air upon Lucian, who hated being wrong.

He _HATED_ it.

And he didn't _HATE_ too many things- sure, he hated lots of stuff, but he didn't _HATE_ anything unless it met one of three conditions:

1. Physically damaging in a permanent sort of way (more permanent than broken arms and punctured organs, though, there isn't much.)

2. Got between him and something he wanted.

Or 3., Was damaging to his ego.

Which this particular incident happened to be.

In any case, he sat down to wait, and waited until dark fell.

_Maybe he met someone he knows, _imagined Lucian, tightening his grip on his sword.

Then he waited until the next morning.

_Maybe someone invited him to stay the night, _reasoned Lucian, sword drawn and lying at his side.

…And then he waited until dark fell again the _next _day.

_Maybe he ran into a vampire or something and got wounded. _Lucian, for all his apparent stoicism, began to worry.

Nero did too, just a little more vocally. "He's never been gone this long."

Hiding his worried-about-Aaron face, Lucian put on one of casual annoyance. "I'm going to go look for him."

Nero looked only mildly surprised. "I thought you didn't care if he died."

Lucian spluttered. Only Nero could catch him _that_ off-guard and get out of it alive. "I- I don't!" he said hotly, stomping off in the direction of the apartment he rented in Old Culiacan.

The cat-shaped terrennial shook his head smugly before prancing along behind.

--m--

"Welcome to my playground, little Aaron."

He struggled against his bindings but stopped when he felt the person grab him by the neck. "We'll have none of that, thank you." Aaron shivered.

The gash on his right shoulder was from when he had tried to get free the first time. The bruise on his clavicle was from when the person whacked him because he had started screaming. And the stinging on his cheek was from when he had tried to get away, yelling for help. "Nobody can hear you from where we are," he had been told. "Don't even try."

The worst part about it was that if it had been Lucian he wasn't sure he would have minded, maybe he would even have enjoyed it.

But it wasn't Lucian, and he didn't like it.

How long had it been, he wondered, three days, four days, five, an eternity? Not being able to see really didn't help your sense of time. Neither did being watched by an unpredictable maniac with no apparent reason to be keeping him there.

He tried pulling against the ropes one more time before he collapsed, panting quietly. No doubt his keeper was enjoying this. Proof of such came in the form of a snicker from two or three feet in front of him, where he couldn't reach. It made Aaron jump. He hadn't realized the maniac was that close to him.

"Surprised, love? I thought you were better than that." The obvious pouting in that voice made his mouth dry. _This guy must think this is a game,_ he concluded, grim.

"What do you _want _from me?" he yelled at the man standing just out of kicking range, frustrated. "What could _I _possibly have that a _freak _like you would want, anyway? I didn't do nothin'!"

"I didn't do _anything,_" the voice corrected evenly.

"Don't you fucking _patronize _me, you _maniac,_" Aaron returned spitefully.

"Ah, but am I really the maniac here? I'm not in _love_ with some purple-haired avenger who doesn't give a rat's ass if I _die_ or not," it sneered.

Aaron froze before shouting his denial. "I'm not in love with Lucian, you freak, I don't even _like_ him!"

It scoffed. "Don't deny it. _I know you dream about me,_" it hissed, repeating the words Lucian had used to break him, suddenly a lot closer, and it dodged when Aaron swung at it. "_Don't think I don't hear you at night, when you're asleep and dreaming…" _It jumped out of range. "Sound familiar?"

"Who are you, anyway," asked Aaron, tugging futilely at his bonds. "Are you a stalker or something?"

The voice chuckled, then laughed outright. "In fact it's quite the opposite. You could say…" And as it leaned in closer, he could practically hear the grin it was wearing. "You could say that _you _were the ones stalking _me_."

For some reason it came to him immediately. "Shit, _Dumas?_" Aaron almost whispered, pausing in his fight against his restraints.

Dumas snickered again and yanked off his blindfold. "Ex_actly."_

Aaron felt sick.

--m--

A/N: Yes, well. I've been wanting to use this particular plot for a while now.

...and if you don't think something could have happened, go read DeGlace's Manifesto In Defense Of Crack (there's a link on her profile.)

Especially since I don't feel up to explaining why my stories never make sense or why Aaron would let them do this to him. It just happens, all right? Sheez. -grins-

Love,

The Head Baka


	3. a herald heralding

As he considered the possibilities, sitting alone in a corner at the local pub, nursing a pint of milk, Lucian had to admit to himself that he _was_, in fact, worried about Aaron. Not in a sort of friendly way, but more in a sort of 'I-won't-let-you-get-hurt-by-anyone-but-_me_' sort of way. It was a real bitch, having to take care of a doll like this, even his favorite doll. While it shouldn't really have come as such a surprise to him, he still resented that his toy couldn't take care of itself; he supposed he had stopped thinking of Aaron as a human being a while ago, right around when he had decided not to let anyone else touch him. If he had it his way, Aaron would never have been so stupid as to wander off, especially after he had yelled at him. Couldn't the idiot tell how much Lucian wanted him from what he had done? Was he completely blind?

Truth be told, he didn't want Aaron to go away in the first place. He would much rather his pet have stayed near him where he could keep an eye on him, so he could continue working on him, chipping away at what he didn't want so he could make the perfect doll he saw Aaron could be, keep twisting him like a rag, make sure he would never leave. But it was too late for that now, wasn't it, and he had other things on his mind.

First things first- he would need to find someone to come with him to find Aaron.

The possible candidates were few and far between, but he supposed he might be able to get Ernest or Kay to do all the work with a little wheedling and prodding. He nodded decisively and drained the last of his milk.

He wanted to be good and drunk after this was all over.

But he needed to stay sober until he had his doll back…

--

As he expected, he found the two back at the flimsy shack the Guild called a 'hideout'.

"Dammit, Sartana, you were supposed to keep an eye on the kid!" Kay growled menacingly, although it didn't faze Lucian.

"I agreed to do no such thing." He suppressed a smirk at how easily riled these pitiful excuses for soldiers were. It was almost as much fun to play with as Aaron.

"Well, yeah, but boy did you screw up this time," scoffed Ernest, glancing in a dominant way at the canid, who immediately submitted and backed off. "You waited a whole week before telling anyone? That's just irresponsible."

"Allow me to repeat myself. I agreed to allow Aaron to _tag along_, not to be his _babysitter._"

Bea, who apparently had some sort of weak spot for the dark swordsman, intervened. "He has a point, but that's still not why he's here. Calm down, boys."

Ernest heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair like a parrot smoothing its feathers, and Kay rubbed obstinately at his face with the back of his left hand like true canines did, a habit apparently left over from whatever heritage the two organisms shared. Bea crossed her arms under her breasts on her jumpsuit and lowered her head, thinking. "He didn't tell you where he was going, right?"

Lucian said nothing, showing his agreement by not disagreeing, which was his normal mode of un-communication.

"So this could be planned."

"I doubt it; he's never pulled anything like this before."

"Not even as a kid," added Ernest.

"Maybe something new happened."

Immediately the three turned to glare accusingly at Lucian, who raised his eyebrows and made placating motions. "Nothing happened," he lied blatantly, and their inherent trust in him made them believe him. Or at least their trust in who he _used_ to be, anyway…

"What if he's wounded?"

"That could hold him up."

Lucian almost lost control and laughed outright in contempt. Confusing Stupid People was one of his favorite hobbies, almost as fun as Touching Aaron and Watching Uncomfortable Situations. It was all he could do to not do more than just smirk contentedly as they chattered, trying to figure out what had happened. As this was going on, several other Guildspeople had come over and joined the conversation, and now they were trying for an intelligent decision.

He drew up a chair and sat down to wait.

--

Aaron whimpered, feeling pitiful as Dumas dragged a cold knife across his chest. It hurt like hell and as the skin fell open and bled his captor leaned in to lick up the blood, moaning quietly. With one extra-long canine he pulled back the edge of the cut, coaxing it to bleed even more. As he pulled and tugged at it skillfully, utilizing his tongue as well as teeth, Aaron bit his lip to keep from crying out, which was not allowed to him.

It had been nearly a week, and Aaron had at least learned not to scream when Dumas did something, or he would be punished severely. The angry welts across his back and shoulders were proof of this. They hurt so much that he was living in a constant haze of pain, trying not to whine softly as his back rubbed against the stone of the wall he was chained to, irritating his wounds there. Dumas had promised him healing once he learned his lesson but as he was still struggling he wouldn't be healed; maybe there would even be scars. He was so low on energy that they weren't even healing at all. If this went on too much longer he might fall badly ill. Then again, knowing Dumas, he would heal him just enough to keep him from delirium before starting the process over again.

Some days the pain was too much and he cried, cried for life, for his friends, for a chance, for Lucian. Especially Lucian. And when he did Dumas would grimace, listening to the sobbing from behind the closed door, and punch something, because that was when he knew he was failing.

--

Lucian gritted his teeth. "Goddammit, where the hell is that idiot?"

Nero looked up at him concernedly. "If we keep tromping around in the snow you'll get a cold, Lucian."

"I don't care. I'm not going to get a cold."

The cat avatar rolled his eyes but refrained from telling him off.

"Sir?" called a woman from the doorway of a library. "Sir, if you run around too much you'll get hypothermia."

He grunted and stalked off, leaving the woman to go back inside and close the doors against the incoming snowstorm the radio had promised.

It was the beginning of winter, and the snow had arrived, but Lucian still went out looking for Aaron, even though he knew that it was most likely that he had frozen to death. If he was gone this long there was only one possibility- he was dead.

No matter how much Lucian didn't want that to be the case.

He refused to ask the Guild for any more help, and they probably wouldn't have helped him anyway; they all blamed him for the loss of Aaron, and while they were partly correct, none of them knew where he really was. Dumas had done a thorough job.

He was getting desperate.

--

These things he knows.

When the little one wakes up he glances about guiltily as if he was going to be scolded.

He does not dream; he only has nightmares. This can be attributed to himself and the _other_ who he refuses to grace by speaking his name.

When he speaks badly he often seems to concentrate on not flinching, as if expecting something bad to happen.

He refuses to speak about the _other_ in his company, but often talks about _him_ to himself when he thinks he is alone.

He is easily moved to tears, especially after mental provocation.

He is especially sensitive to touch in the following areas: chest, neck, back, wrists and hands, thighs, lower back, left and right flanks.

He speaks softly when asking questions.

He does not like to ask for things.

When touched, he closes his eyes and stops breathing momentarily.

He looks guilty after being touched or making eye contact.

The word 'disgusting' can wake him even from REM sleep.

He has said the following things in his sleep:  
"But I don't want to!"  
"Wait, don't leave."  
"Dammit, Lucian."  
"N-no, you're not supposed-- ah!"  
"Hey, I didn't mean…"  
"Don't!"  
"But what if someone… nh…"  
:crying: "I'm sorry!"  
"Dumas, n- don't! Stop… hnn…"

He has said Dumas nine times and Lucian twenty-four times in his sleep.

Each and every one of these things is _his _fault.

And Dumas will never forgive _him _for it.


	4. within and without

The snow curled around his ankles. _I really am in love with Lucian, aren't I?_ He scuffed at the edge of the snow-bank with his boots, frowning at the ground as if it had done him a personal injury, and gave a slight shiver.

A hand appeared on his shoulder. "Cold, are we, dear Aaron?" The voice of his captor was smooth and calm, with a hint of a grin in it. A coat was draped around his shoulders. "A gentleman must always surrender his coat to a lady."

"I'm not a girl, you bastard," muttered Aaron halfheartedly.

'I know, dear." Dumas stepped forwards and enfolded Aaron in his arms, pulling him back to lean against his chest. "I know."

All the noise Aaron makes is a soft angry sound as he leans back into the vampire gratefully. He'd taken it hard when he had first been kidnapped and was still healing from that, wounds barely closed, both mentally and physically, but late one night when Dumas was torturing him (as usual) he had finally broken. Dumas knew this was indicative of a change about to happen. It had all become too much- the responsibility of dealing with all of the vampires, the Immortals' impending involvement, being a Guild gunslinger even as a small child, saving the world, Lucian's hate, his self-confrontation… Even one of these would have been too much for any other person. It was amazing he'd held out for so long.

And now, in his own way, he was letting Dumas in, letting him see. Yes, of course, he'd put up a little bit of a fight every now and then when he had enough energy, of course he'd been fragile, oh so fragile, like a little snowflake. Dumas tightens his hold on Aaron, thinking possessive, animalistic thoughts_. _But the fact remains that a change is a change, and he takes what he can get.

---

It is hardest on the terrenials; they miss both, but do not dare come when they are not called. Aaron would slip deeper into depression and Lucian would snap at them, and they would both know they were worried. Therefore it was decided that only Nero was to approach Lucian, and none to his doll, no matter how he thrashed in his dreaming, no matter how much he called out for them to save him.

Alexander applies himself to researching the economy; Ursula sighs a lot; Ezra sleeps, alone, in her own corner, and moves away when approached; Tove cries.

And Toasty has not been seen for nearly five weeks now, and refuses to tell them anything or even let them know where he is.

He has seen the loss of one such sweet boy, and refuses to watch another.

_I must remain impartial_, each tells himself, even as they see the others fighting a losing battle. _I have to do it for their sakes._


	5. externalized

_A/N: Sorry it took so long… Man, am I ever lazy._

_The next few ones might be a bit since the computer I had them on died and so I have to put the memory into another one and then get it off that one and so on and so forth._

_By the way…_

_I have the 'end' written out. All I'm going to tell you is that Dumas ends up escaping, which should be more than enough for you to figure it out if you try really hard. _

_So:_

_if you want to know exactly how it ends, review and I can tell you;_

_if you want this thing to continue then review/pm me and let me know. I don't really have more than a vague idea of where it might be going after that part, but you can help me figure it out._

_Also, I may do a 'pick your poison' multi-ending thing, and continue those as such. There's going to be several ways this arc could end:_

_an ending that keeps with the general theme of this story as such_

_an ending apiece where each one dies; or more, if you want only two of them to die;_

_a 'cute/sweet' (only compared to the rest of the story, anyways) ending for each pairing (not including DumasxLucian. I haven't gotten there yet);_

_an end that isn't an end._

So put in your opinion before I start postin' it and whatnot. I'll set up a poll, I suppose, on my profile. The stupid thing doesn't actually let you pick more than two, so please, please, PLEASE pm me with the endings you want. Include the endings you voted for, if you will, so I can personally keep track of it. The stupid voting system is anonymous.

_Seriously, people, I love you. :points: I may not necessarily know who you are, but I _do_ love you. I am being __**totally fucking serious**__!_

_So… ahem… yeah. Review and vote and/or pm. Me. _

…_Yeah. _

_Enjoy~!_

[disclaimer]: I do not own anything, and I'm not makin' money off it.

---

_externalized//:moreover_

He squeaks and blushes at the delicate fingers working the healing salve into his wounds. "That hurts."

"I know, but just hang in there. I'm almost done." Heavy-lidded red eyes didn't stray from the task at hand, face slack as he concentrates. When he finishes he wraps the arm in clean white bandages and kisses the surface of the cloth gently, as a mother would to soothe a child, but he is not a mother and he is not a child.

The medicine soaking into his bloodstream is making him sleepy, and he whines and mewls, tugging the larger man down on top of himself, making him chuckle. Their lips connect briefly as they shuffle around to make lying together on the bed more comfortable.

To anyone but them this would be infinitely strange- their faces are so different, their backgrounds and original morals and values so separate, but things have been forced to change and where they dwell now is a happy medium for both. As happy as would be possible, anyway.

The small one sleeps, and begins to dream.

He sees the face of his beloved, who is not the man he has laid down with. His violet hair and red-brown eyes are far from common but he isn't a common person. "Lucian!" the little one calls.

He turns, and sees him. A malicious grin spreads across his face. "Oh, it's you again…" Faster than should be possible, he is before him and he grips the fragile face with fingers cold as ice. He blames it on poor circulation, but that is obviously not the case; the rest of him is equally cool, as if his circulation is _so_ horrible that his heart is barely beating at all. He licks the side of the face hungrily, almost purring, and the small one feels his resistance melt.

He misses him so badly. It is as if his heart had become glass and it had tipped off the shelf and shattered into a million pieces, tiny pieces, little shards, the kind that get stuck in your foot but you don't notice, invisible and unfindable. "I love you, Lucian," he says sweetly.

"Well, that's just _too_ damn _bad_, isn't it?" comes the hissed reply in his ear, but he's sure he doesn't mean it. "You betrayed me, Aaron. You've been bad, so bad."

This is not what he wants to hear.

The elder feels him whimpering and shaking and sees the salty tears run down his face and he understands. He holds the small one tightly, smothering him with kisses, wishing he could make him forget that that _bastard_ ever entered his life and decided to ruin it.

---

Somewhere not too far away said bastard jerks awake, panting for breath. He had dreamt that his doll and his enemy were together, and his doll cried "Lucian, Lucian," in his sleep, and that _freak_ kissed away his tears like he cared. It was the worst nightmare he had had in months; it was as if everything he had ever been afraid of (even though he _couldn't_ be afraid, because he didn't _know_ fear, right?) had come together to stab him in the back. His abdominal muscles clench as he curls up, clutching himself like he's going to fall apart, crying for the first time since he had lost everything, nine eons ago, when he promised the memory of the people he cared about that he would never cry again, feeling nauseous.

The red-winged black cat snaps awake, and watched the man's shoulders quake, seeing his tears splash onto the sheet he had been lying underneath, reading the curve of his spine and the little noises he was trying to swallow, and he understands.

This is the reckoning he knew was coming, and had been dreading ever since he had learned where the poor boy was and had to promise he wouldn't tell. _You can't tell him, though, _he remembers hearing, the white cat, his other half, a blurry shape in his mind. _I'd have to kill you or something. I can't—_

"Aaron," the despondent once-hunter rasps between sobs, just loud enough for his ears to catch. "Oh god…"

_I can't let you hurt them like that._

He puts his head back down onto his paws and waits for morning.


	6. long hill ending

At this point he's pretty much sure that he's never going to find him again, and he begins a descent into depression worse than the first time he was broken like this. He starts eating less and sleeping more and he refuses to go outside. Nero sees this and is afraid, very afraid, because the last time this happened he almost died and this time it's far more likely that he _will_ die. He has a great amount of interest invested in the man, and if he passes away it he's not sure he'll get it back, which would be pretty bad news for the general balance of things. The other terrennials gather to discuss it but he is not there; he must watch over his 'otouto-chan' or who knows what he'll do. They cannot come to a conclusion; as much as they want to protect the small one in his somewhat happiness this one cannot be allowed to destroy himself from the inside, and so it is decided that they will risk losing their informant and tell Lucian where his doll is.

"Lucian," murmurs Ezra. "Wake up."

He will not stir.

She sighs and tries a different tack. "We found Aaron."

His eyes snap open. "What? Are we under attack?" He jerks into a sitting position and hurries to pull on his shirt and start snapping on his armor.

She puts a paw on his forehead. "No, we're not under attack." He stops moving, halfway to pulling on his boot. "We _found_ _Aaron_."

The boot falls to the floor. "W-what?" he whisper-shouts, red-brown eyes widening. "You- you-" _He's doing a nice impression of a fish, _Ezra thinks, almost giggling. Looking stunned, he picks it up and shoves it back on. "Where… is…"

"Dumas has him," she says quietly, instantly sober.

Nero cringes subconsciously as the monitoring spells he has on the man's various vital functions whine and squeal as he nearly experiences cardiac arrest.

He grits his teeth and pulls on the other boot. "Very _funny_. Did anyone ever tell you you have a twisted sense of humor, Ezra?"

She deadpans. "I'm _not_ _joking_, Lucian."

"Sure you're not."

"No, I'm not! Dammit, child--" She spins on her heel in midair, looking furious. "Alexander, you deal with him."

"Ah, denial," sighs Ursula from the shadows.

"Lucian-san." The dignified owl steps forward, claws clicking on the wood of the dresser he's perched on. "We have located Aaron. He is, as Ezra-sama said, with Dumas. No, we are not joking. Yes, we are sure. No, you are not dreaming." He flutters down to perch on the man's shoulder, digging his claws in so deeply that they draw blood. "We are aware of your… _fondness_, shall we say, for the boy, and have reached the conclusion that we will allow you _a second chance_. Do I make myself _clear_, Lucian-san?"

He winces and nods.

"Very well. Shall we be off?"

---

Aaron had planned to spend the day reading, but there has been a breach of defense so Dumas insists on keeping him close by. Close, to Dumas, means right next to him, which, admittedly, isn't that bad. The Duke takes his meetings in his throne room, with Aaron perched on his lap. The reports come in but Aaron doesn't really listen; he is warm and he is comfortable and he trusts that it will stay that way. After each report Dumas checks on him, making sure the blanket is snug around him and he is warm and is he hungry? Because he could get something if he wanted it. Is he sure? Well, all right then.

"How many are there?" Dumas calls out.

"One, sire."

Dumas has already begun to suspect, but he doesn't want the small one to know quite yet. It isn't time.

---

He is spurred onwards by the look he knows his doll will wear when he sees him. He is sure that he's got him up near the top, so he slashes and dodges and punches his way through dozens of floors before taking a break to assess his position.

He is pleasantly surprised to find that he is only six floors from the main throne room.

---

It has begun, and he is going to lose. So he orders all those to see him to get back to works, he knows what's going on, and once it's just them he sighs a heavy sigh. "Aaron."

"Hmm?" The small one looks up at him, looking more innocent and vulnerable than he ever has. Dumas leans down and kisses him passionately, without blushing, which the one on his lap does enough of for the both of them.

"I'm really sorry, Aaron, I--" Dumas stops himself before he can begin to apologize for something he has not yet done. "Soon, sooner than I would ever have liked, I'm probably going to… you know…" He makes a little slashing motion across his throat. "So I just wanted you to know that… that I…" He chokes on his words and kisses Aaron again, trying to find the strength to say what needs to be said. "I love you, Aaron, no matter what," he whispers into his ear, tears escaping his notice to splash on the collar of his shirt. "I really do. And… and I'm sorry."

Aaron is frozen with shock. He, also, knows what these words mean, why he would be saying them, why he would be crying and getting his shirt all wet. He knows who is coming, and what will most likely happen, and he, too, weeps, for the five months he spent with someone who would not hurt him before he made it better. On his own, he kisses the vampire, wrapping his arms around his neck, making sure that he knows how much he wished he had the courage to say the same things he has been told.

And all too soon they part, knowing that being together would just make it that much worse when he reaches them.

For the last time, Aaron stands, and then Dumas stands, and he pulls him into a tight embrace before lacing their fingers together.

"Forever an' ever," whispers Aaron, trying to look brave.

Dumas smiles through his tears. "Don't forget what you deserve, love, don't ever forget."

They kiss one last time before Aaron runs off to hide in an adjoining room so Dumas can play his part properly.

---

He would have broken down the door had it not been open.

---

Aaron's heart beats fast as he waits for the strike that will end it, for the footsteps that will begin something completely new.

---

The sad smile on the Duke's face tells Lucian nothing useful.

---

He doesn't even have to ask. "He's in there," says the vampire softly, pointing at a nearby door. "I'm out of here, and you'd better be too, because it's going to collapse _very_ soon.

---

It would be easier if he had not dreamed of this as many times as he has. His heart hurts. Is this normal?

---

A split decision. "This isn't over, you freak," he hisses, darting towards the place he had pointed towards, and as he turns the handle he hears the _whssp_ sound of teleportation.

---

The door opens and Aaron looks up.

---

The faraway look in his doll's eyes tells him he doesn't believe that it's really him.

---

He has an idea- in his dreams, whenever he says this, Lucian always sneers and calls him disgusting. So he figures he may as well try.

---

"I love you, Lucian," say the delicate pink lips.

---

A minute passes, and then two. Aaron is confused. Shouldn't he be frowning by now, at least?

---

He has thought about this moment but nowhere in his mind did he think this was how he would feel. He has not imagined this so he freezes and then decides to do something that may or may not be very misleading.

---

He's not hitting him, he's not being yelled at. He is being kissed, and this is how he knows that he is not dreaming.

Dreams are not as strange as life.

_Life is abnormal,_ thinks Aaron calmly, before wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing back.


End file.
